Mind Games: Mercenary's War
by ChaosChampion
Summary: A swashbuckling former superhero has taken out a contract on the Titans. Why has Jerome Forsythe, the legendary Mind's Eye, betrayed his past like this? And can the Titans figure out what's going on in time?


Author's Notes: I'd like to take this time to apologize for leaving whatever fan base I might have accumulated in the lurch for such a long time. I will try to be more regular in my updates of this effort and not let Real Life get in the way of same.

Now that I'm done groveling, let's restart my fanfiction writing career on the right foot! The first chapter of this fic takes place between the events of "Titan Rising" and "Betrayal". Also, all standard disclaimers apply, please R&R, etc. Now, on with the show!

Mind Games: Mercenary's War

Chapter 1: Hard Sell

It was 1 A.M. in Jump City. That being the case, one would assume that the docks would naturally be abandoned at such an ungodly hour of the night. On any other night, that would be utterly correct, but on this night, that was simply not true.

One person waited at the docks for something that must have been very important to be up at this hour of the night. He was a blond, skinny man, possessed of the kind of handsome face that nevertheless held the potential for madness that one might seek when casting for the role of Dr. Victor Frankenstein, clad in a black trenchcoat, round-lensed glasses, a black fedora, and combat boots, looking for all the world like some cross between an alt-rocker and an old-time news reporter. He peered into the distance, searching for someone that had promised to meet him 30 minutes ago, tapping his right foot impatiently and looking at his watch to see just what time it was...

Then, a figure appeared in the distance. He was clad in black armor with a steel-gray collar and steel-gray armbands. He wore a mask that was black on the left side and leather brown on the right and only had an eyehole on the left side. He advanced resolutely towards the docks, as though he knew that, even if it had been midday, none would dare attempt to stop anything that he might do.

"Well, well, Slade, do you always keep your prospects waiting like this?" The blond man asked the figure in a thick Cockney accent, smirking bemusedly at his own quip.

"I see that your tongue is as sharp as they say, Jerome Forsythe-or, should I say, Mind's Eye?" Slade replied matter-of-factly, drawing to a halt as soon as he was two arms-lengths away from Jerome.

"I should 'ope so, for otherwise I should believe I was losing my edge. But let's get down to business, shall we?" Jerome said, allowing a condescending grin to spread across his face.

"Indeed. Now, as you know, I am having a bit of a...pest problem, as it were; this problem is popularly identified as the Teen Titans, and it seems that, no matter what I do, they always seem to thwart my plans and make me look bad. Now, I ask you, Jerome: do you think that you have what it takes to defeat the Teen Titans?" Slade inquired, staring at Jerome with his one good eye.

"But of course, Guvner-why else would you 'ave called me 'ere? Now, shall we discuss the price of my services?" Jerome replied abruptly, already quivering at the size of the payment he would receive for this job.

"I admire your confidence, Jerome, but let's see if that confidence is well-founded," Slade laughed contemptuously, snapping his fingers as if to summon an underling. Jerome detected this undertone and quickly scanned Slade's mind, detecting that Slade had just summoned a large individual who went by the moniker Cinderblock and that said individual was just behind him. Jerome spun around and saw a large humanoid figure who appeared to be made out of stone and was charging straight at him; as he dodged, Jerome also noticed that Cinderblock was soaking wet. _That means 'e must've been 'idin in the water under the docks. I knew that things had been going a little too easily, particularly given that this is Slade I'm dealing with 'ere..._

However, Jerome's ruminations were interrupted by a massive uppercut from Cinderblock, which was so powerful that Jerome would have fallen into the water had he not had the presence of mind to grab on to the pier at the last possible second. Then, too quickly for the eye to process, Jerome employed the momentum Cinderblock had given him to swing back around and go into a flying kick which hit Cinderblock squarely in the solar plexus and was so powerful that he was sent back 10 feet by the force of the blow and knocked prone. However, being as durable as he was, Cinderblock recovered quickly, but declined to charge at Jerome again, having deduced that this was a bad tactic that led to much pain.

Seeing Cinderblock's refusal to take the initiative, Jerome backed up to the end of the pier, then leapt into the air and used his telekinetic powers on himself to enter a clumsy sort of flight. This turn of events confused Cinderblock long enough for Jerome to pull off a high-velocity spin kick which had about the same effect as his previous flying kick. Once Cinderblock had recovered, Jerome, still in telekinesis-induced flight, decided he would alight on Cinderblock's shoulders. Cinderblock, being the dumb brute that he was, decided to try and break Jerome's legs with a double punch; however, Jerome quickly jumped on top on Cinderblock's head, which was then made into the recipient of Cinderblock's blows. While Cinderblock was still stunned by this, Jerome leapt off of him and cartwheeled into him feet first, knocking Cinderblock flat onto his stomach; he did not get up this time. Seeing this, Jerome turned around to see whether or not Slade was pleased with his efforts.

"Hmm...that was pretty impressive, Forsythe-you didn't overuse your powers, you finished the fight quickly instead of sapping your stamina by allowing it to drag on, and you clearly know how to turn your enemies' strengths into weaknesses. Now, where were we?" Slade asked nonchalantly, striding up and down the pier.

"I'm glad you think so, Slade, and as for where we were, we were discussing the price of my employment," Jerome answered equally nonchalantly, sighing a sigh of relief at having passed Slade's test with flying colors.

"Ah, yes. Given your demonstration of skill and reputation as a renowned bounty hunter, as well as the difficulty the Teen Titans have given me, I believe that $100 million would be a fair price. What do you say?" Slade offered, pressing his hands together in a steeple position.

Jerome scanned Slade's mind, then made a counteroffer: "I don't know, Slade. That IS quite a bit, but if these Teen Titans are as tough as you say, I'm not doin' this for under $150 million."

"I admire your audacity, Jerome. What would you say to $115 million?"

Jerome scanned Slade's mind again, then made his move: "That's better, but still not quite enough. $130 million sounds fair to me-what do you say?"

"I'll pay you $125 million upon completion of this assignment, and that's my final offer."

Jerome scanned Slade's mind and saw that he was as good as his word on this: "I'd say that's sold, Slade. Now, how long do I have?" Jerome inquired, starting to walk away from the pier.

"Complete this assignment within a year's time or my offer is forfeit," Slade threatened, raising and clenching his right fist top ensure that Jerome got the point.

"Understood, Guvner. I assume you know where to contact me, correct?" Jerome inquired one last time, stopping so that he would be within earshot long enough for Slade to give him an answer.

"Of course I do, Jerome. Now, go to your apartment and get some rest, because I know you well enough to know you'll be sleeping very little once you get into this assignment," Slade smirked condescendingly, turning his back on Jerome as the latter walked off into the night.

Jerome walked a couple of blocks north, then turned east and walked three blocks. Then, he entered the apartment complex there and proceeded to the mailroom; he had a hunch that Slade had anticipated this arrangement and, accordingly, mailed him some documents concerning his targets. He knew the basics about his targets-Raven was a psychic, albeit not nearly as powerful as he was, Robin was the leader and an expert martial artist, and so on-but more information was always helpful. However, as luck had it, Jerome found nothing when he unlocked his mailbox.

Disappointed, Jerome left the mailroom and made his way up the stairs. During the 14-story climb, Jerome started to formulate his battle plan. It occurred to him that, this being the information age, Slade could well have sent him an e-mail with the information that he sought. If that were the case, he would use this information to devise counters to the powers of his opposition as well as deduce the matrix of interpersonal relationships between the Teen Titans. Then, he would confirm the latter (he was sure that their powers would be expounded on in depth in Slade's report) by visiting a local club that an informer, one of the more popular DJs there, had indicated was a favorite hangout of the Titans. He would then work his way into their trust and use same to undermine the Titans by ruining their relationships with one another and thus turning them against one another. If his cover was blown before this goal was achieved, he would depart from Jump City and gather up allies for a decisive attack to destroy the Titans by force. However, since he would then have to split his bounty with them, that was definitely Plan B.

After climbing up the stairs and proceeding to his apartment, #1443, Jerome hung up his trenchcoat, underneath which he wore black jeans and a while Fila shirt, and booted up his computer, then checked his e-mail and noticed that, at the top of his inbox, there was an e-mail from with no subject. Jerome moved to delete this e-mail; however, just before he did so, he made the connection that the address was a reference to the song "Mama Weer All Crazee Now" by the British rock band Slade and instead decided to open it. Inside, there was no message, but there was an attached text document. Jerome opened it and quickly ascertained that this was indeed the information he had been searching for. Having confirmed that, Jerome began to read the document.

However, he soon found his head overflowing with salient deductions about the Titans and their natures and was thus compelled to go get himself a pen and notepad. Once he was thusly equipped, he sat himself down and started alternating between reading the dossier and writing whatever he thought of that struck him as important.

Robin proved to be an interesting case indeed. His tutelage under Batman could very conceivably lead to a great deal of emotional repression, as well as a controlling nature. It might also explain why the Teen Titans' coffers were always overflowing in spite of the many gadgets and gizmos that the Titans had grown quite notorious for. Additionally, two closely linked incidents provided further insight into the Boy Wonder's character. The first of these concerned the notorious and mysteriously vanished thief known only as Red X. According to information from Slade and an informant within the Teen Titans, Red X had been none other than Robin, who had, frustrated with a lack of information on Slade and his motives, gone undercover as Red X and replaced himself with a holographic projection; however, Slade saw through the ruse and Robin's gambit to infiltrate Slade's criminal empire failed. Soon after that, Slade came up with some nonsense about a Chronoton Detonator designed to lure the Titans into a trap-by implanting deadly nanomachines into the other Titans, Slade forced Robin to become his apprentice or watch his friends die from the inside out; Robin naturally chose the former and was soon after sent out to the regional headquarters of Wayne Enterprises, where his former friends showed up to stop him and he defeated them with ease, but could not bring himself to harm Starfire, which led to Slade using the nanomachines, which were subsequently deactivated since this was enough to get Robin to continue fighting his friends. Not too long after that, Robin threw himself into a stream of the same nanomachines that had infected his friends, thus rendering Slade's trump card useless, since using the machines would kill Robin as well.

Jerome stepped back for a moment and stopped to think about the implications of these incidents. Clearly, Robin was willing to deceive his friends if it meant obtaining a worthy goal, which could prove to be a deadly weakness were it to happen again, particularly if one factored in the reopening of old wounds that would result from a second incident of that sort. What really got Jerome's mind firing, though, was Robin's powerful connection to Starfire. The tabloids had often insinuated in the drivel they "reported" on the Teen Titans that Robin and Starfire were romantically linked, but Jerome had never bought into it. To be sure, the story of a freewheeling, irrepressible alien princess bringing Robin, the grim, stern protégé of the Dark Knight, out of his emotionally repressed state made a good romance story, but soldiers had no time for such kerfluffle. But Robin's actions towards Starfire during his apprenticeship under Slade made it impossible to deny that there was something between them, though damn Jerome to Hell if he knew quite what.

Jerome shook his head, smiled at the sheer inexplicability of life, and moved on to the next entry in the dossier. This one was on Starfire, so her entry might help to clear up some of the confusion on this issue. Before he started, though, Jerome glanced at his watch to see what time it was. Oh, bloody 'ell, it's 1:30 in the mornin'-I'd best be turnin' in now, 'adn't I, Jerome though to himself, but I can't rightly leave this document less than 'alf read. Thank God for Calvin & 'is little...upgrade, Jerome smiled to himself. 'Calvin' was Calvin (or, more commonly, C.H.) Lim, better known as Savant, the smartest member of Pax Britannica who could invent or prove almost anything you could ask for. Calvin, under the theory that telepathy worked on essentially the same principle as downloading a file from the Internet, had designed a system by which Jerome could download information from a computer into his brain. Jerome thought that he had to be more than half-crazed to even consider letting Calvin cut his braincase open and install his latest invention in his brain, but it had turned out alright, all things considered. The only downside was that using the system could interfere with his powers and keep them from working for up to 3 hours at a stretch, but that had only happened four times, all in the first month after the installation.

With no further hesitation, Jerome unplugged his laptop from the wall and willed the probes that Calvin's machine had extended through his nervous system into the now-empty port. In a few seconds, they had inserted themselves into the laptop's CPU and located the document Jerome was reading. For a moment, Jerome's whole body got that "pins and needles" feeling throughout his body-another reason Jerome tried to avoid using Calvin's little machine whenever possible-then he had the contents of Slade's dossier tucked away in his brain-or, more accurately, in a memory bank the ever-thorough Calvin had included in his brainloading device. With that little matter out of the way, Jerome decided to scan through the information that Slade had given him.

Jerome really wanted to get to bed, so this would have to be brief. In all honesty, Jerome had already made up his mind about undermining the relationship of Robin and Starfire being the cornerstone of his plan, so he wasn't terribly interested in Starfire's profile. Maybe the next one would be of some interest, but Jerome could hardly have prepared himself for the shock he was about to experience. Jerome started to read the third chunk of text in the document, but didn't get past the second line of text; the first told him that the operative in question was codenamed Terra. Hmm...that sounds familiar somehow, Jerome muttered to himself, frustrated that he was unable to place it. However, the second line of text stated that Terra's real name was Tara Markov. Oh, sweet Jesus, this is surely not the best way to finally get around to seein' 'er again, now, is it, Jerome chuckled sardonically; he started to get a certain sinking feeling that this was life's way of telling him to back off from the plan he had formulated since the middle of the glory days, the 5 years where Markovia had served him as home and refuge from anyone his...entrepeneurship had managed to anger-and, in a very direct way, he owed those years to Tara Markov. Jerome began to reminisce about how he first met Tara...

"_C'mon, you lot, we 'aven't the entire day to wait on you!" Jerome hissed into a steel-gray walkie-talkie, leaning against the wall of the Markovs' palace._

"_Well, I'm trying to catch up, sir, but somebody is attempting to railroad me into conspiracy to commit treason-" began a cultured-sounding, nasal voice of the sort Americans often associate with the upper class._

"_Treason! TREASON! What's treasonous is the fact that we're assassinating the very symbol of Markovia to the rest of the world! You can't just walk in and wax the royal family-" responded a clearly quite-dismayed voice with a slight Chinese accent underlying the dominant British one._

"_Will you lot shut up? I didn't like this mission either, Calvin, but it ain't the place of 'ired 'elp to tell their employers 'ow to do their jobs," Jerome sighed resignedly, quickly putting away the walkie-talkie and drawing his twin shotguns when he heard footsteps nearby. Thanks to those prattling fools, Jerome had drawn himself attention, which was the last thing he wanted at this junction._

_Right on cue, a patrol of 3 Gem Guardians came around the corner to investigate the voices they had heard. Jerome quickly blasted two of them in the chest with his shotguns, then spun around to catch the frantically backpedaling third one in the ear with the shotgun in his left hand, a blow that was followed up by Jerome bringing down his right shotgun on the hapless Guardian's cranium, upon which the Guardian collapsed upon the ground. However, Jerome heard more footsteps on the way-MANY more footsteps-so he gulped in as much air as his lungs could hold and dove into the fountain behind him, taking care to cause as little disturbance to the water's surface as possible. A few secounds afterwards, the footsteps drew closer-right on top, in fact, of Jerome's previous location. Jerome carefully drew his eyes and nose above the water, again being careful not to cause a disturbance in the water's surface. He quickly scanned their numbers and estimated that there were about 12 of them-probably at the fringes of Jerome's ability to handle solo, but even if he did prevail, there were more where they came from, that much was certain. But wait-Jerome thought he could see Albert and Calvin pulling in at the gate. He'd recognize them anywhere-Albert sported a blue three-piece suit, a red tie, a well-trimmed coif in a shade of red Jerome had not previously thought available in nature, and a smirk that could peel the skin right off a body, while Calvin came clad in tan slacks, a white lab coat, and round-lensed glasses just like Jerome's. The two of them were trying to convince the guard they were supposed to be here on an appointment with the royal family, but the guard didn't seem to be buying it, judging from the expression on his face. I s'pose I'll need to lead those bloke by example, Jerome sighed to himself, springing out of the water and lunging at one of the Gem Guardians that had just arrived._

_Exactly as Jerome had predicted, Albert and Calvin saw what was going on in the courtyard, calculated that their covers had been blown, and followed his example, making short work of the guard that was in their way via a quick clothesline and a few well-placed stomps to the solar plexus, then rushed to help Jerome with the scufle he had gotten himself into. Meanwhile, Jerome trained his shotguns on the two Guardians closest to him and fired, dropping them both, then elbowed the Guardian he had lunged on in the face and shoulder barged another nearby Guardian in the groin, causing him to double over in pain. However, the remaining 8 Guardians had enough time to assess the situation and trained their guns on Jerome, who, thanks to the arrangement of the remaining Guardians, had no route of escape except into the water fountain, where he would be easy pickings for the Gem Guardians. "Do not attempt escape, Forsythe! Throw down your weapons immediately! You are under arrest for violating the sanctity of the royal household, two counts of homicide, two counts of assault and battery, and terrorist actions against the Kingdom of Markovia! Come quietly, and I assure you that you will be given the benefit of a fair, speedy trial; however, should you choose to resist, know that we are authorized to use deadly force if you do," one of the Guardians barked in the distinctive Markovian accent, which, to Jerome's ears, sounded like a mish-mash of equal parts French, German, and Russian. Jerome quickly complied with the order, throwing down his shotguns and opening his hands to show that he had no weapons hidden in them. Just then, though, 3 of the remaining 8 Guardians crumpled over in a heap and looked like they had had holes burned through them back-to-front. "What trickery is THIS?" the Guardian who had arrested Jerome before demanded, his body clenched up in rage and fear._

"_Hey, I didn't do nothin', but I'd like to warn you that maybe you're payin' me a LITTLE too much attention at the expense of the world around you," Jerome replied, clearly relaxed and not at all worried, this being due to the fact that he had spotted Albert and Calvin in the bushes nearby._

"_What is THAT supposed to mean, you prattling-" the Guardian who had spoken twice before started, but he was never able to finish, as he felt his body freeze up and refuse to move despite his level best effort. Almost immediately afterwards, Albert and Calvin sprang from the bushes by the courtyard, with Albert firing his trademark gold-plated Uzi at the 2 Gem Guardians flanking the paralyzed one while Calvin lasered the Guardian who had been barged in the groin before and had just now begun to stagger back up to his feet. Jerome, meanwhile, leapt up to his feet, delivering a solid stomp to the ribs of the Guardian he had lunged into before. He then retrived his shotguns and fired them into the two Guardians who were still in fighting shape, but one of them, a rather large, blond fellow, was still able to fight and fired his sidearm at Jerome, but Jeorme quickly sidestepped and fired the last round from each of his shotguns at the remaining assailant, who staggered back, clearly in pain, then collapsed to the ground. "Well, you guys showed up right on time, now, didn't you?" Jerome smirked, reloading his shotguns with his telekinetic powers._

"_Well, when you hire the best..." Albert sighed, smirking even more than he usually did._

"_But of course, Albert-why did I ever doubt you or Calvin? But we'll have time for self-congratulation later-meanwhile, we need to get in there"-Jerome pointed his thumb in the direction of the royal Markovian masion-"without gettin' involved in another scuffle like this. I say we hork three of the uniforms that we didn't manage to blast 'oles in," Jerome suggested, acting on his suggestion by stripping the soldier he had shotgun-whipped earlier._

"_That's a right fine idea, Jerome, but could you hold still for a minute? You're simply sopping wet, but that's nothing a little low-powered does of my heat ray can't fix," Calvin replied, extending his right arm out towards Jerome and then loewring his hand to form a 30-degree angle with his arm. This caused a bright red ray to emit from a watch that Calvin was wearing and hit hit Jerome dead-on; had it been on a higher power setting, Jerome would be dead right now, but as it stood, he simply felt uncomfortably warm for a few seconds, but then noticed that he felt drier than he ever had in his whole life. Before he could get used to this distinctly pleasant feeling, though, Jerome spotted ANOTHER convoy of Gem Guardians marching towards the courtyard. "Gor blimey, belay orders concerning acqusition of enemy uniforms," Jerome commanded as quietly as he could, motioning Albert & Calvin into the bushes, where he rapidly joined them._

_Jerome quickly scanned the enemy force and spotted 25 soldiers-that would be a very tough fight, even with Albert and Calvin helping out, especially if one of them survivied long enough to call for backup. "Gem Guardian Command, this is Ruby Force Platinum Unit calling. We have 15 bodies out here, and...it doesn't look good. A lot of these bodies have gun wounds in them-shotgun wounds, mostly, judging from the formations, but also two that look like they were shot by Uzis and three that have shots going clean through their chests; we can't identify the firearm used on them, but we're fairly sure it was high-caliber. Two of the bodies don't seem to have bullet wounds on them, but one of them has several broken ribs and the other appears to have a shattered cranium. We will take the bodies in for autopsy and await further orders," one of the Guardians intoned in Russian, or at least that was what Calvin relayed to Jerome, since Calvin was the best with Russian, having grown up right on the border between North Korea and China, none too far from the former Soviet Union. The Guardians then acted on their stated plan of action, removing the bodies as quickly as possible. Just after they had left, Jerome heard a rustling in the bushes. "Show yourself!" Jerome hissed, pointing his shotguns at the general direction of the disturbance._

_Jerome's demand was met with sobbing-sobbing that sounded like a young girl's voice to Jerome's well-trained ears. "Stay on alert, you lot," Jerome ordered Albert and Calvin, who kept their firearms trained on the source of the disturbance. Jerome then spoke softly towards where he had heard the sobbing come from: "Now, tell me-who are you?"_

"_My name is Tara Markov, and I am the Princess of Markovia, NO MATTER WHAT-" the little girl started, but Jerome reached into the bushes and placed a hand over her mouth-after all, he'd already butchered enough government agents for one day!_

"_Now, now, Princess Tara, I certainly believe you, but you can't go around sayin' that so loud or we'll both end up in a great deal of trouble! So tell me-why would a member of the Markov family be outside in the middle of a dangerous battle?" Jerome inquired, removing his hand from Tara's mouth so she could answer._

"_I'm the reason all those Guardians were on patrol when you and your friends came-they're all looking for me and trying to bring me back before I run away," Tara replied through quiet sobs, moving towards Jerome and bringing herself out where Jerome and his men could see her. She was about as high as Jerome's kneecaps, which was no small feat for a girl as clearly young as Tara was (Jerome would have estimated that she was about 5 years old, give or take). She was a pretty little girl, with sad-looking blue eyes that reflected profound unhappiness and confusion in her life; blonde hair cascaded down a red dress that probably used to be very expensive, but, judging from all the tears it had sustained, could now be had for a few pennies tops._

"_Now listen, dear girl, and answer me promptly, for I think I hear soldiers about-do you want to get out of here?" Albert snapped, nervously wringing his hands both because of those soldiers he had heard and because, as soon as he had spoke, he recognize that he just might have overstepped his bounds._

_However, although Jerome shot Albert a dirty look, he then tilted his head to the side slightly, a gesture Albert had learned was a granting of grudging approval. Tara nodded quickly-fearfully, almost-she DID want to get away from a place where she had been given little but contempt and pain, but she surely didn't want to leave her beloved older brother Brion or the life of a royal. Before Tara could further pontificate on this, however, Albert unceremoniously yanked her out of the bushes, clamped down as hard as he could on her right arm, and aimed his gold-plated Uzi square at her head._

"_Well, chaps, I'd advise against firing if I were you, but then, I happen to value the girl's life," Albert grinned, his grin widening as Calvin and Jerome emerged from the bushes and trained their weapons on the soldiers up ahead. The soldiers looked somewhat confused for a moment, then one of them stepped forward and began to speak in Russian: "You will hand over Princess Tara and we will let you go without a fight."_

"_I have a better idea: we take the girl and Jerome doesn't call in support to have the entire palace levelled," Calvin spat back, also in Russian, motioning to Jerome and the communicator he held on his trenchcoat's belt; upon hearing his name, Jerome, who had been obscuring his face with his fedora and holding his head at a downward angle, lifted both in as dramatic a fashion as he could manage._

"_Oh, God, it's Forsythe! It's no wonder there were already 15 men down by the time we were called out!" one of the men in the unit shrieked hysterically, but the leader, the man who had offered terms before, bellowed as loud as he coudl to get his unit's attention._

"_Even is these men really ARE Jerome Forsythe and his Imperial Vanguard, they could be-and probably ARE, given their nature as special operations troops-bluffing concerning their massive support in the wings, but even so, they have Princess Tara, which complicates our situation," the commander sighed worriedly._

"_We stand by our previous terms, my fellows-the ball is in your court," Calvin hissed, relishing the worry and uncertainty in the enemy commander's eyes. An awkwardly long period of silence and inactivity passed, then the enemy commander walked forward, motioning to his men to hold their position, and produced the royal crest of Markovia-a pair of chestnut stallions against a crimson background with mountains on eitherr side of the stallions._

"_I am afraid this is goodbye, Princess Tara. Please take this crest so that you may remember where your loyalties lie," the officer sobbed in Russian, clearly quite broken up about this turn of events. Meanwhile, jerome, Albert & Calvin made a careful, slow retreat out the nearest gate._

"_Well, we escaped with our lives, but when High Command hears that we botched this mission, that might not be the casse for terribly long," Albert sighed worriedly, clenching and unclenching his hands out of frustration and fear._

_However, Jerome simply ignored him and contacted the nearest base with his walkie-talkie. "This is Jerome Forsythe. I am calling to report that Operation Richter was aborted on my authority. However, we acquired an...interesting potential resource..."_

Long story short, Jerome managed NOT to get killed for his failure and, as one of the few competent volunteers for the United Markovian Nationalist Front, the organization he was working for at the time and also the channel through which he first met Albert and Calvin, managed to rise through the ranks until, in the desperate final days of the battle between the Sovereign Kingdom of Markovia and the UMNF, he was the acting commander of the latter; as Jerome rose in rank and prestige, the captured Princess Tara became something of a symbol of the uprising, a status that proved helpful both as a rallying point for the rebellion before its ignonimous surrender to the government and as a bargaining chip to save the skins of his men and, of course, himself. In fact, thanks to a nifty little part of the human condition called Stockholm Syndrome, no less than Princess Tara herself went to testify on Jerome's behalf, calling not only for his amnesty, but also for his being rewarded for keeping her safe. Over the strong objection of King Philip-Tara's father-the Markovian parliament, in a then-rare show of legislative independence which was probably brought about by their sensing that denying the princess her requests could well lead to another civil war a decade or so down the line, not only granted Jerome amnesty, but pledged that Markovia would provide protection from any international reprisals that might occur because of Jerome's service to the rebellion, a condition that led to Jerome's adopting the country as his base of operations, at least until the political winds shifted and a coalition of hardline monarchists took control of the parliament, which had forced Jerome to find a new employer, since King Phillip despised him...

But that's enough reminiscin' for now, ain't it, Jerome sighed wistfully to himself checking hiswatch and seeing that it was 2 A.M. Not feeling industrious enough to walk over to his bed and figuring that he was slumming anyway, Jerome flung himself onto the couch, removed his boots, fedora, trenchcoat and glasses, and closed his eyes. In the morning, there would be the fallout of Jerome's betraying his soon-to-be-former employer, the doubt about whether the master plan was so masterful after all, and a million other worries, but right now, there was only sleep and rest and peace...

Next Chapter: Jerome has his first encounter with the Titans; Jerome spills the beans about his former employer; Starfire & Raven get caught in the crosshairs; & Jerome discovers Terra's divided affiliations...

Next time, on Mercenary's War, Chapter 2: Still Waters Run Deep!


End file.
